


Fire Made Flesh

by avislightwing



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen, HAHAHA YOU WERE WRONG, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, you thought it would be nessian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avislightwing/pseuds/avislightwing
Summary: Now that Cassian's recovered, he goes to see why Nesta's been avoiding him. To say that her response is not what he was expecting is putting it lightly...





	

“Go. Away.” Nesta’s fists hit the leather-covered punching bag again, and again, just as Mor had shown her.

“Are you really going to keep doing this?” No reply. “Avoiding me?”

Nesta hadn’t been avoiding Cassian, per se. All she had had to do was not actively seek him out, and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. In the six weeks since the complete disaster that was their time in Hybern’s keep, he had spent at least three-fourths of that time locked in his rooms with Fae healers. The time had been worth it, however; his wings were damaged, held together by magic and bits of sinew and membrane, but they were _there_. They would heal.

Which was all to say that Nesta had really only been avoiding Cassian for, oh, a week and a half. Even that had been easier than she had expected it to be. He was constantly in consultation with Rhysand about the movements of their troops, or snatching moments of quiet with Azriel, or moments of not-so-quiet with Mor at Rita’s, or making faces at Amren when she taunted him over his sickbed and wondered about whether his injuries would affect his wingspan. In fact, this was the first time Nesta had been alone with him since before she was Made.

“Are you going to answer me?” Cassian’s voice was rough. It sounded, Nesta thought, like he’d been screaming, or like he’d swallowed fire.

She didn’t particularly care. She reoriented herself, carefully placing her feet at twelve and five, and launched another attack at the punching bag.

“Mother’s _tits_ , Nesta, say _something!_ ” The last word came out as a snarl, and before Nesta could register the sudden increase in his cedar-and-coffee scent, Cassian strode over to her, pushing the punching bag out of the way, catching her most recent blow in one callused hand. She jerked back at the contact.

Nesta stood there, chest heaving, staring at him, for a long moment. “What do you want, Cassian?” she asked flatly.

“For you to talk to me,” he snarled. “For you not to pretend like I don’t exist.”

For the first time, it struck Nesta just how tall her new body really was. She could meet Cassian’s eyes without tilting her head. She remembered him towering over her when she was a human – “hulking,” she’d called him – and now… Now, with her longer limbs, with her more powerful body… She could quite never say she was his equal, not with his centuries of battle experience, but she sure as hell was closer to it. “I’m not pretending like you don’t exist,” she said coldly.

“Yes, you are.” He let out a long, frustrated breath through his nose. Nesta could almost imagine smoke streaming out from the fire in his throat. Or his heart.

“And so what if I was?” she snarled, stepping past him to slam her fists into the punching bag once more. “What then?”

“Then –” Nesta paused in the middle of a punch. She could’ve sworn Cassian’s voice… broke slightly. “Then I just want to know why. Is it… is it because…”

Nesta slowly turned around. Cassian’s hazel eyes looked as dark as the frost-frozen peaks of the Illyrian steppes as they bored into her. _Anguished_. That was the word. “Because what?”

“I – I failed you.”

Nesta blinked, then blinked again. “What?” she said bluntly, the harsh tenor gone from her tone quite without her consent.

“I promised to protect your household. You. Feyre. Elain. And – I failed.” His voice was dark as well, with misery. “I did nothing as they shoved you and Elain beneath the Cauldron, nothing as that bastard spirited Feyre away to the Spring Court –”

“For Cauldron’s sake, Cassian,” Nesta snapped. “You really think that’s why I’ve been avoiding you?”

Now it’s Cassian’s turn to blink in confusion. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

“Well, you’re an idiot, then, as well as a bastard.” She was pleased to see his expression drop into a scowl. “Of course I don’t blame you. You were sprawled on the ground. Those fancy wings of yours were shredded and spurting blood. Really, Cassian, what could you have done?”

For once, Cassian seems at a loss for words. But only for a few moments. “You… then why are you avoiding me? Don’t try to deny it again – you just confirmed you are.”

“Because I didn’t want to see your stupid face.” Nesta’s eyes flared as they meet his. _Dangerous_ , she’d thought of him. Well, she was dangerous too, now, with the fledgling wings on her back and enough killing power that she’d nearly destroyed the House of Wind, enough that she had twin topaz Siphons clasped over her hands at all times.

“Why, Nesta, I didn’t know I affected you so,” Cassian crooned, stepping closer, but –

“This is _exactly_ why I didn’t want to see you,” Nesta snapped, shoving him backwards so hard he stumbled.

He eyed her carefully, and she noted (with some satisfaction) that his eyes darted nervously to her Siphons as her hands flexed. “Explain.”

“This –” She made a gesture between the two of them. “This – flirting, this _thing_ –” She paused to take a deep, shivering breath, straighten her stance. “I don’t want it, Cassian.”

There was a moment, just a moment, where she thought she saw something in his eyes. Something that he would never admit to, she was sure; that same self-loathing misery she saw when he thought she blamed him for her and Elain’s Making. Then it was gone, replaced by his typical fire. “And why is that?” he snarled. “Because you would rather not have my bastard hands _sully_ you?”

As satisfying as it was to piss Cassian off – and it was very, very satisfying – Nesta didn’t want that. She wanted him to understand. She could feel the rage growing inside her – the red-hot well bubbling up in her that she’d always felt, even when she was a human – but now, she reminded herself, that well was full of magic. She was fairly sure that Cassian would just shield if her magic attacked him, but she didn’t want to risk it. Not until he understood. So she shoved the rage, the magic, back down, and instead took another step towards him, shoving him again, hard enough that – to his surprise, judging by the look in his eyes – he fell, just catching himself before he landed on his wings. “You don’t _get_ it,” Nesta spat, looming over him, breathing hard from the effort to keep her magic inside. She could feel her wings flare, fledgling things as they still were. “If you would get your head out of your ass for one second, you would see that it’s _not about you_.”

That seemed to finally get through to him. He didn’t try to get up – just stayed there on the floor, looking up at her. “What is it about, Nesta?” he asked quietly.

And just like that, all the fight drained out of her. “I was afraid… you wouldn’t understand.” She rubbed a weary hand across her face. “I’ve never wanted it. With anyone. And I don’t now.”

Sudden understanding dawned in his eyes. “But – when I visited you –”

“My body reacted, Cassian,” she snapped. She’d never tell him this, but it had felt good, his nose and mouth on her neck. But then… she had realized what _he’d_ meant by it. Which was something so completely different than what it meant for her. “But I don’t want… what you want.” Her hands clenched. “To put it absolutely clearly, Cassian, I don’t want a lover. _Any_ lover. Not just you.”

Carefully – probably in case she shoved him again – Cassian pushed himself upright. “And you were afraid… Nesta, I would never –”

“I know you would never have – have forced me.” Nesta’s wings twitched involuntarily. _Like Tomas tried to_. “But I knew you felt something different for me than I felt for you, and I was afraid…” Her voice trailed off, and she forced herself to meet his eyes again. “I don’t want a lover, Cassian. I don’t _need_ a lover.” _Dangerous, this male._ “I need a friend,” she managed to finish, her voice rising in volume. “And I was afraid that you’d think with the head in your pants instead of the one between your ears, and decide that if that was all I wanted, I wasn’t worth it.” At the last words, her magic overflowed, and the masonry beneath them cracked with a thunderous boom and a flare of burnt-yellow light.

“You… want me to be your friend?” There was something like wonder in Cassian’s tone. Wonder, but disbelief, and caution. “What about the others?”

“Elain is my sister, but she doesn’t – understand.” Nesta flexed her hands again, staring at the already-calloused palms, the glow fading from her Siphons. Elain, sweet Elain, who was uncertain and unsteady in her new body, but already causing roses to wind around her bedposts while she slept. “Mor and Rhys – they’re much more Feyre’s friends than mine. And Azriel –” Azriel had been spending his time with Elain when he wasn’t off on a mission for Rhys. His presence comforted her.

“And Amren?”

That teased a small, reluctant smile from Nesta’s lips. “All right, Amren’s my friend.” After they decided not to kill each other, the two had become fast friends. The same restlessness with their power, the same discomfort in a body that felt wrong, wrong, wrong – and then there was the other thing.

It was only by talking to Amren that Nesta had realized this new, old thing about herself.

_Oh, I’ve had a few lovers, but I don’t really care one way or the other,_ Amren had said simply. _I couldn’t care less about the fucking, really. It’s the chase I like_. It had been like the answer to a question Nesta had been asking her whole life, like she finally could breathe easily, like she’d been shoving against a wall with all her might and it had suddenly disappeared.

_That happens?_ she’d breathed. _That’s… normal?_

Amren had scoffed, fingering the brooch of quartz and rose gold at her throat. _Perfectly. Not everyone has nothing better to do than think about what’s between someone else’s legs._

_Yes,_ Nesta’s heart had sung. _Yes._

“But you want me as a friend as well?”

Nesta gave an exasperated sigh. “ _Yes_ ,” she snapped. “If you really need me to say it like that, then yes. I want you to teach me to fly as soon as these damned things get big enough –” she twitched her shoulderblades “ – and I want you to explain these things –” she displays her Siphons “ – and Mother’s tits, Cassian, I want you to teach me to fight.” She couldn’t stop herself now, even if she had wanted to. Her shoulders were heaving. “I want to go to Rita’s with you and Mor and Azriel, and I want to drink, and dance, and _live_.”

“Were you not living before?”

“ _No_.” Elain might have been perfectly content with the human social scene, all the parties and pandering, but Nesta had never been. She flung her arms wide, encompassing the mountain, Velaris, the Night Court, all of Prythian. “My body may feel wrong, Cassian, but this all feels right. It feels like…” Her arms dropped. “It feels like home,” she admitted quietly. More like home than any place ever had. The Night Court’s dark humor, their unwavering loyalty, their dedication to their city and their family, Mor’s queenly courage, Azriel’s quiet encouragement, Rhysand’s teasing strength, Amren’s roiling power… Cassian’s brave resilience. She wanted all of it, wanted it to fill her well of rage until it spilled over, until it exploded out of her in a supernova of power so strong she could flatten everything in a ten-mile radius.

When she dared look at Cassian, he was… smiling. “I can do that, Nesta,” he said. “I can be your friend.” His smile shifted to a smirk. “After all, if you can resist _me_ , the least I can do is return the favor.”

Nesta gave him her best cold, arrogant look, though she was sure he could see the relief leaking out the edges. “How gracious of you. You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Never.” She could tell he would never make another move on her. But the teasing would be endless. His smirk told her that much. “Rita’s tonight?”

She didn’t hold back her grin this time – let it ignite like a spark to tinder. “Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let's get some more representation around here, y'all. Leave a comment/review if you like it! (Or if you don't like it!)
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr as birdiethebibliophile!


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